


Cherry Pie

by kaistrex (weishen)



Series: Prompts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, Baker Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, M/M, POV Stiles, Socially Awkward Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weishen/pseuds/kaistrex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is a dreaded customer at Beacon Hills Bakery, but perhaps he's not as terrifying as Stiles has been led to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Pie

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вишнёвый пирог](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118169) by [LonelyLikeACastaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyLikeACastaway/pseuds/LonelyLikeACastaway)



> Now with fanart [here](http://classy2shoes.tumblr.com/post/157097714970/based-on-a-scene-from-cherry-pie-by-kaistrex) by classy2shoes ♥♥♥~!

Stiles has heard horror stories about Derek Hale.

He supposedly comes to Beacon Hills Bakery four times a year for cakes for his parents’ anniversary and the birthdays of his mother, one of his sisters, and his niece. Cakes for other family events get divided between his two siblings and Stiles has already had the pleasure of meeting Laura Hale, a beautiful woman with an easy smile and sharp wit.

It makes the stories about Derek difficult to believe: that he’s made Christine cry — more than once — and he had Greenberg refusing to leave his house for a week. He’s also apparently the one to thank for Stiles getting his job in the first place because the previous employee up and quit after dealing with him the last time he’d made an order.

In his two months working at the bakery, Stiles has only ever seen him once, and that was as the kitchen door was swinging shut, but he'd only had to catch one glimpse of his eyebrows to know all the stories are true.

So when Stiles draws the short straw and is tasked with baking this year's cake for Derek's niece, he's not surprised that it all goes horribly wrong.

His first attempt at the simple chocolate sponge refuses to rise, and on his second, the pastel pink and purple colours requested to frost it somehow melt together into one unattractive lump.

He hasn't made mistakes like this since he was a kid. It has to be because Christine’s filled his head with all these promises of what Derek will do to him if he screws this up.

That, or the guy is seriously cursed when it comes to ordering cakes.

As a result, by the time it comes for Derek to collect it, his lips are bitten raw and his hair is sticking up every which way and there's at least an hour before it will be ready. And Christine, who's supposed to be manning the counter, is hiding out in the toilet so Stiles has no choice but to be the one who faces the dragon.

When the bell above the door tinkles, Stiles doesn't let himself dwell on the eyebrows, or the severe suit he's wearing, or the uncomfortable realisation that the aggressive glowering might be doing things to him, and does what he does best. Aside from baking cakes (that aren’t for Derek).

He talks.

“I'm really, really sorry but we've had a bit of a disaster and your cake won't be ready for another hour but as compensation we’ll bake you anything you want free of charge—” Does he have permission to say that? Who knows! It's too late anyway, the words are out of his mouth now.

But he's not sure Derek's absorbing a single thing he's saying. The man is staring at him wide-eyed, in a way that makes Stiles unable to decide if it’s in horror or amazement. His lips are slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of his two front teeth and Stiles loses his train of thought when he realises he bears an uncanny resemblance to a startled bunny.

Before he can manage to get himself back on track, Derek backs out the door and strides off down the street without a word.

Stiles gapes.

Maybe… maybe he's done with Beacon Hills Bakery? Maybe he can't take another mishap from the incompetent fools employed here?

“What just happened?” Christine asks, poking her head out of the kitchen.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

For a moment, Stiles isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. Until he remembers a little girl wanted a unicorn cake, goddammit, and he’s going to deliver.

Literally, as it turns out, because Derek doesn’t come back and he ends up with no other choice.

Christine voices an ominous _good luck_ as she watches him sit it in the footwell of the passenger seat of his jeep and Stiles flips her off.

Luckily, everyone knows the Hale house is out on the edge of town, but as he gets closer he starts to wonder if it’s really so lucky after all. It would have been a wonderful excuse to turn the car around and never show his face in Beacon Hills again.

It ends up being that thought that steels his resolve. He will _not_ follow in the footsteps of Greenberg.

When he reaches the house, the driveway is so packed he has a job of finding a spot to leave his car, and when he gets out, he can hear what must be a small army of children screaming.

 _Greenberg, Greenberg, Greenberg,_ he chants to himself as he retrieves the cake, trudges onto the porch that’s tied with balloons and rings the bell.

A harried looking Laura Hale opens the door and her eyes light up when she spots the cake in his arms. And then she notices who’s holding it and Stiles decides he doesn’t like the wicked smile spreading across her face one bit.

“Stiles! Derek said he saw you today!”

Stiles isn’t sure what she means by that, but before he can mention her brother’s weird behaviour, she keeps talking.

“Why don’t you come on in?”

Stiles tries to decline but she's already walking away, forcing him to follow with the cake into the chaos.

The screams are almost deafening now he’s inside, though he breathes a sigh of relief when he only counts five children.

He follows Laura into the kitchen and immediately locks eyes with Derek.

He's lost his tie and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, along with his cuffs which he’s rolled up to his elbows. He looks softer. Almost cuddly.

Until he chokes on the glass of water he’s drinking.

“Derek? Are you alright?” Laura asks, but she doesn't sound concerned at all. Instead, she’s still grinning and Stiles is starting to wonder if all of these children have finally driven her to snap.

“Yes, Derek. Are you alright?” Another woman asks, and the way she draws up alongside Laura and matches her manic smile means she can only be the second sister.

Derek is wide-eyed once more, but this time Stiles can definitely pinpoint the expression as ‘horrified’.

“Uh, I’ll just leave this here,” Stiles says, placing the cake on the counter, “And get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be silly! Stay and have some cake!” Laura exclaims, grabbing him by the elbow.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t,” Stiles says with a nervous laugh. “I haven’t had dinner yet so I really better get going.”

Laura is about to argue further but Derek cuts in with a growl.

“Let him go, Laura.”

Laura and her sister share a look, but she does as Derek says and plasters on another smile. “Maybe we’ll see you another time?” she asks as she escorts him to the door.

“Sure,” Stiles says, though he really means _no way in hell._

He says goodbye, and when he gets in his car, he’s sure he sees Derek pulling back the curtain at the front window to watch him drive away.

 

*

 

“You guys!” Greenberg whispers the next day, poking his sweaty face into the kitchen. “Derek Hale keeps walking by the front of the shop and glaring at me. I’m fearing for my life!”

“You go,” Christine orders, giving Stiles a shove towards the door, never mind his hands covered in flour. “You seemed pretty effective at getting him to turn tail yesterday.”

Stiles tries to squawk his protest, but they both get behind him and thrust him out the door.

Sure enough, Derek begins to stalk past thirty seconds later, scowling through the window, but he jerks to a halt when he catches sight of Stiles. Then he stomps inside, making even the cheery jingle of the bell sound fearful, and sets the carry case Stiles had used to deliver the cake on the counter, his jaw clenched like he’s doing it under severe protest.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, and he’s expecting Derek to back out the door again.

“Cherry pie,” the man says instead, with the kind of intensity that might be used when voicing the name of a serial killer.

Needless to say, Stiles is baffled. “What?”

“I want you to make me a cherry pie. As compensation.”

“Oh. Right. But could you maybe keep your voice down about that? I’d rather my manager didn’t find out.”

Now Derek looks like he’s suffering acute toothache. “Only if— Only if you’ll… eat it with me,” he forces out and Stiles is well on the path to being offended by Derek’s reluctance to ask, almost as if he’s been put up to it, but then he notices the tips of the man’s ears beginning to burn and realises that he’s actually just well and truly socially-stunted. It’s clearly taken him a lot of effort to ask, and the flattery of it has Stiles grinning.

“Only if you promise to stop terrorising my colleagues,” he replies, unable to resist teasing him if it means he’ll get to prolong that blush just for a little while more.

“I don’t terror—!” Derek cuts himself off with a huff, great eyebrows furrowed.

Stiles reaches towards him and presses his fingertip between them to smooth it out.

Derek huffs again, but this time it’s with a breath of laughter despite himself. “Is that a yes?” he asks.

A ray of hope is shining in his eyes above the smile still lingering on his face and it transforms it from aggressively handsome to breathtaking. All Stiles can do is dumbly nod.

And if he’d thought that small smile was breathtaking, it’s nothing compared to the grin that spreads across Derek’s face in answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my [tumblr](http://kaistrex.tumblr.com/post/150140567149/cherry-pie) if you want to share it!


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